He met Marigold his freshman year in high school.
Says he just knew she was the one.
That he didn’t need to swing his stick on a bunch of random ice to know it.
He trusted his instinct.
He’salwaystrusted his instinct.
Encouraged me to trust mine too.
Deep rooted problem of course being I thought mine was permanently mute.
But now?
I’m starting to wonder if perhapsIsimply muted it.
Perhaps it’s time to let it have a voice again.
Starting by believing the man across from me truly is meant for me in spite of the sticky situation.
“Thoughts?” Thayne practically purrs as he slowly slides the utensil out of my mouth.
“On?”
“The dessert? The tuneskies?” He lowers it to the other treat on our table. “Me?”
“Incredible. Incredible. Andsoooooofucking incredible,” saucily springs free getting his cheeks to finally shift to a shade of red. “No notes.”
Light chuckles shake his frame making it slightly harder for him to cut into thesemifreddo.
“Can you sing?” is attached to me propping my elbows on the table to allow my face to girlishly fall into my open palm. “I already know you can dance.”
“Can Ising?” my date echoes in almost a cringing fashion. “We talkin’ like can my mouth move and makethe rightsounds? Or we talkin’ like can my mouth move and make noises other people can tolerate most days?”
“Both.” Giggles effortlessly float through the air. “Either.”
“Sure,” warmly laughs the person I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with. “Jus’ don’t ask me to audition forDisney on Ice.”
“Not even if The Muses are performing?”
“Only if The Muses are performin’,” he chortles as I indulge in a bite of the next dessert.
Decadent flavors savagely serenade my tastebuds to the point I don’t even wait to be asked for my opinion to state it, “I like this one more.”
“Why?” His attention remains completely focused on me. My every word. “Is it ‘cause you prefer mousse to ice cream? One texture over the other? Maybe it’s the flavor of fig balancin’ out some of the strength of espresso?”
“I love the way it melts on my tongue.”
“DearsweetDolly,” airily murmurs my date on a clumsy dropping of the spoon.
Clink noises draw the attention of other tables; however, rather than become embarrassed by the sudden staring, hesimply picks up the utensil and belts out a perfectly timed “wooooo” in between the lines of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”. He theatrically lifts his other hand, bobs his head around to the beat, and waits for another perfect opening to add a second, “woooo”.
His wooing sparks crowd clapping and other silverware tinking.
The performers on stage even whimsically request everyone gets on their feet to join them in singing the chorus.
Which we do.
